


October Challenge Day 1: Shaking Hands + Stitches

by HopefulButHelpless



Series: October 2019 Prompts! [1]
Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Blood and Injury, M/M, Stitches, not graphic but its definitely there, the prompt is goretober 2018's first day + whumptober 2019's first day, this is also not edited so its worse than usual, this is part of the October challenges I'm doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-10 16:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20855042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopefulButHelpless/pseuds/HopefulButHelpless
Summary: First day of the October challenges I wanna do, except I'm combining things I like from any and all of them from all years.





	October Challenge Day 1: Shaking Hands + Stitches

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written in so long and also I have too much homework to be able to properly write something good, so uhhh... This is pretty bad.  
It's cute though?? I guess?? this was mainly just short practice, so full disclaimer here

“I have arrived!” Brian announced to the living room, looking around for Tim. “Tim?” 

Unsteady breathing coming from the kitchen answered his unasked question. 

He started walking to where Tim was, and what he found made his eyes sting with the promise of tears to come. “Are you okay? Stupid question, of course you’re not, what even am I saying, I don't- I don’t know what I should do, Tim, can you. Okay, breathe with me first, yeah?” Brian kneeled on the floor next to Tim and gently grabbed the blade from his white-knuckled grip, trying to ignore the blood.

“Can you talk right now?” he asked while he manoeuvred Tim into standing up, focused on getting to the bathroom before calming Tim. The panicked dart of Tim’s eyes and the quick shake of his head was enough to tell him that no, Tim wasn’t capable of speech. Brian hummed his understanding, and noticing how Tim’s quivering lessened when he did, he continued to do so, humming a song he barely remembered but was stuck in his head.

Once both Tim and Brian were seated on the floor, Brian handed Tim’s bottle of pills to him, getting the bandages and iodine from the medicine cabinet to clean up the cuts on Tim’s wrists. The clattering of the bottle made him jump and drop the cloth he’d been wetting with warm water, and instantly he returned to Tim’s side, helping him collect the spilled blue pills. Tim’s hands were trembling too much for him to help, and Brian had to pick two. He took a bottle of water from the cupboard, uncapped it, and gave it to Tim along with the pills. Washing the cloth he’d dropped, Brian wiped the blood from Tim’s arms with feather-light touches. At Tim’s constant flinching, he started attempting to calm him down. 

“Can you breathe in time? Four in, hold for four, release for six. Ready?” Tim breathed in time with Brian, though his breaths were much more faltering than Brian’s. Slowly, though, Tim’s breathing evened out and his hands steadied enough for Brian to be able to grab the needle and medical thread. 

Tim’s breathing picked up at that, but Brian was quick to shush him. “It won’t hurt much,” he promised, and Tim stuttered a sound resembling an affirmative. 

“I,” - he coughed - “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and Brian shook his head.   
“It wasn’t your fault, I’m not mad at you,” Brian said as he wiped the needle with alcohol. “What happened anyway? I was gone for five minutes maximum.”

“Panic attack, I think. My body didn’t feel like it was mine, so I tried to cause pain, to, uhh, to-

“To ground yourself?”

“Yeah, exact- ah!” Tim cut himself off when the needle pierced his skin. Brian muttered praise to him while stitching him up, soft words of affirmation, you’re doing so well, just a bit more, good boy, you’re so strong, almost done and-

Tim whimpered as Brian cut the string and tied a knot, and Brian tried not to wince as he dabbed iodine on the line of thread going along the deepest cut on Tim’s forearm. 

“Stitches, huh?” Tim asked, examining Brian’s work. “Obviously they’re perfect, what a typical med student-”

“You’d be dead without me and you know it, shut up,” Brian interrupted, the couple falling back into familiar banter as they put away the supplies. 

“I’m sorry, though,” Tim said into the comfortable silence that they had descended into. Brian shook his head. 

“It really wasn’t your fault, Tim,” he said, “plus, I don’t mind taking care of you. It’s just that I thought you were getting better - is the new prescription not working?”

“I don’t know, maybe. I guess it just happens sometimes,” Tim muttered into the crook of Brian’s neck. 

Brian shifted on the couch and threw an arm over Tim’s waist. “You’re alright now, and I’ll always be here for you when you need me.”

“Sap.”

“But I’m _ your _ sap and you love me.”

“Yeah, I do.”


End file.
